In the reliquary there is the censer, and the book. In the reliquary, which is the fields and the little hidden place known only to you, there is also a plant with plush green leaves, hung from rotted twine, going yellow and ancient in the native light. The word is a rebuke and the plant is the rebuke of the word, and the water that kept the plant green and lovely is vanishing and the plant can only be used when it is rid of it.
Buy them by the carton and smoke them so when he sticks his fat head out of Heaven we can catch his beard on fire. Draw his fat head as if it is magnificent: draw it next to the lamb reposed and the crossword in the children's Sunday pamphlet. Remain quiet. Read instead about the flight of the Jews and their wanderings. There is smoke in Exodus. There is smoke in Leviticus. There is smoke in every cell of your body and if you are burned you will rise. Remain quiet. The silence is a wall you can crush with a fist until you recognize yourself in it; a sanctuary is any four walls that contain peace; white panels hide the baptismal and are the only way out: we recognize our end in the quiet, warm water. It gets in your ears like water does. When the saints speak or the doves cluck you can only hear choking, like a storm drain ******* at leaves. What color is the water that is not the River Jordan: clear unto the tile. What color are his eyes that are not the River Jordan? What color are his eyes when he looks at you bowing and scraping in the closet with the believer in a spaghetti strap top she cannot wear to school? What color?
The hand on the bell is profane so the sound of the bell is profane; better to hold what is already ruined and ruin it further says the land that was given to the men who **** it, and the stars misconceived smile at those going North and are silent in cities.